


Delirium

by Jinmukang



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Delirium, Fever, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 20:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang
Summary: Legend is hurt and not thinking straight. Malon's there when his secrets slip out.Or, Legend's always said Time was a lucky man.(A Linked Universe AU fanfic)Whumptober 2019 Day 3





	Delirium

**Author's Note:**

> Here, take some Legend angst. Thank me later. You're welcome. <3

It all started when the boys burst into her kitchen, all looking like they’ve just finished a battle with some sort of demon. And considering her boys, what their names are, Malon isn’t inclined to doubt that possible option. Thankfully, she’s able to jump right into the chaos they bring with the blood trailing after their boots on her recently swept floor. She and Link may have been happily married, all adventures over, but she’s lost track of the times her husband came home, bleeding and sporting black eyes thanks to a monster trying to get into the Kokiri forest or a bandit trying to take advantage of poor, innocent travelers on the road.

Link is a retired old man, but he struggles to turn down a fight, refuses to sit by and watch.

Which, she supposes as she brings out their constantly stocked first aid kit from the cupboard, is why he’s back on this adventure. Why they’re all back on this adventure.

Before she can do as much as dig out any bandages, Link puts his hands on hers as the rest all either collapse onto her kitchen chairs or… or work on laying an unconscious one on her sofa in the living room.

“Him first,” Link says, smiling softly, like he’s so happy to see her but he wishes it were under different circumstances. Like he’s sorry he’s doing this to her again, which Malon’s already forgiven him for. There’s a tightness to his brows too. He’s worried. “We can take care of each other.”

She nods and his lips tug just slightly into a genuine smile before he puts one dirtied and bloodied hand (she wonders _whose _blood) on her cheek and gives her a heartfelt, quick kiss. She can taste dirt on his lips, ash too, but then she tastes _him _and she instantly feels just a bit more calm, a bit more capable to take care of their most injured.

If circumstances were different, she might have thrown a quip or teasing remark at him, but for now, someone needs her help. She rolls her sleeves up and grabs the kit after her husband leaves to find the multitude of their spare kits. She doesn’t waste time striding over to the most injured hero, forcing herself to not spare a second to glance at the others. They’re all injured, all hurting, but from passing sight it’s mostly cuts and scrapes. The sight of the youngest holding a blood stained rag tightly around his arm, curled up on the kitchen chair as the scarred one—the hero of the Wild is his title if she remembers correct—is already pulling out his own medical supplies and coaxing the child to take the rag away as he readies a needle and thread… his own wounds left open and bleeding… it churns her stomach.

So she focuses on the one before her, forcing the rest to the back of her mind.

No.

_Out_ of her mind.

This one is called the Hero of Legend. There’s nasty purple and green bruising on his temple, blood smeared across his face and hair. Even unconscious his eyebrows are pulled together in pain, his body stiff like even his sleeping mind is afraid that any movement will mean pain. There’s more red trailing down his neck and staining his clothes, one arm is mangled and will definitely need to be set and splinted. There’s still an arrow in his left thigh.

“What happened…?” She whispers in horror, her hands outstretched and hovering because she has no idea where to start.

“We were ambushed,” and shortest one answers next to her, setting a pail filled with water and rags next to her, “they got to him first.”

She swallows and looks at the Hero of the Four Sword. He’s mostly uninjured, just a few cuts and scrapes. He doesn’t look that ready to share more into detail and Malon doesn’t think she can stomach more details at this point. Instead, she sets her jaw and instructs him to hold his companion down as she moves to the arrow in his leg.

This will be painful, even in sleep. Thankfully, there is little chance of him remembering it.

It takes a lot of work and a lot of bloody rags until she’s satisfied she has done all she could. She can head into town once the gates are open in the morning to buy some red potions, it will take a chunk out of her wallet but at the moment any cost to get all her boys into shape is never too high.

Four, she believes that what they all call him, and the recently stitched up Hero of Warriors help her sit Legend up so she can look at the cucoo egg at the back of his head, and as her fingers run through his hair, she can help but purse her lips at the heat she feels. She’s predicted he’d most likely fall into a fever, she was just hoping that it wouldn’t be this high. It almost burns to touch him.

“Nothing a little red potion and some milk won’t fix,” she announces and the entire atmosphere of the room seems to relax. These boys really do care about each other. From what she’s seen, they’re all very different people, ranging from soft, quiet, and polite to loud, brash, and rude, the latter most being the one unconscious on her couch, and yet they still care for him. It warms her heart, to see that these boys all share the spirit of her best friend, and yet are all so wonderfully different.

“For now,” she continues, signaling to Warrior that he can gently lay Legend back down, “we’ll have to watch his fever, put him somewhere private and quiet until the Castle Town gates open.”

Her husband nods his head. “I’ll get a bed ready in the guest-”

“He can rest in our room,” she says and Link looks at her with this adorable, surprised face, his mouth agape.

“W-where will _we _sleep…?”

“In the guest room with the others,” she says and Four snickers. Malon can hardly contain her own when Link’s upfronted and flustered look only increases.

-o-o-o-o-

She’s in the process of changing the cool rag on Legend’s forehead when the hero finally stirs, groggy movements ruffling the sheets of her and Link’s bed. He groans, eyes squeezing and eyebrows coming together, and she almost can’t help but smile softly at the sight.

“Link?” She asks, setting the cool rag to the side next to a fresh glass of milk she’s been hoping to shove down his throat the moment he’s coherent enough to not choke. It feels weird to call another boy by her husband’s name, but she’s seen how _her _Link is sometimes very disoriented while waking up from unconsciousness. She’d rather make Legend feel safe with his own name than wallow in her selfish discomfort. “Honey, can you open your eyes?”

Legend somehow manages to squeeze his eyes shut even tighter, one hand slowly and clumsily shifting up to his face. She grabs his hand before he can mess with the cut on his forehead that she’s worked long and hard to stitch shut.

“Link, can you hear me?” She asks again, gently.

Suddenly, Legend tenses, his eyes flying open, but she instantly can tell that sometimes wrong. His pupils are wide and dilating, his movements still groggy and clumsy. She remains still as his tired eyes slide over to her face, or at least the general area her face is, and his mouth… splits into a grin.

“Mar'n…”

She leans forward, hand still in his. “What’s that, dear?”

“Marin,” he repeats, his voice slurred and whispered.

The corner of her lips twitch and she lets go of his hand. “How rude, I worked so hard to remember all of your boy’s names, and you can’t remember mine?” Legend continues to look at her with half lidded eyes and a goofy smile. She huffs and reaches towards the glass of milk, happy to see it’s still cold. “Do you know where you are?”

“I’m… I missed you… Mar'n…” he says, blinking slowly, and she rolls her eyes, about to quip that he clearly hasn’t judging by the false name he’s calling her, but something in his lazy eyes make her stop. She sets the glass of milk back on the table and reaches forward to get a closer look at his face, but she’s stopped once again but this time by a small hand weakly lifting towards her face. She remains completely still as he brushes her cheek with the back of his fingers.

The contact only lasts a moment before his arm loses all strength, flopping back to his chest. He sighs and shifts, his eyes closing slowly as another fight with consciousness begins, one that he won’t last long against.

He’s smiling still, his body completely lax, relaxed. If there’s one thing she remembers about Legend from the last time she’s seen him, it’s that he’s not easily relaxed. He’s always tensed like a bow string.

“Missed y… you…” Legend repeats, and it all clicks.

He isn’t mistaking her name, he’s mistaking her identity.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, gently lifting a hand up to brush his sweaty hair from his eyes. He hums in contentment, shifting into a more comfortable position in the sheets.

And then, the strangest thing happens.

He starts humming.

It’s choppy, like he doesn’t even have the energy to hold a note for very long, but she can hear the tune. She’s never heard it before, but it sends her a sense of… Longing. Pain. Bittersweetness. It’s almost… dreamlike.

She’s caught staring at him, her mouth slightly open as she tries to understand, tries to piece the puzzles together to figure out who this Marin is, what she is to this boy. She’ll definitely talk with her husband later, he’s always been better at puzzles than she is.

“S'ng…” Legend cuts himself off suddenly to slur, his eyes blinking and opening just a fraction more to look at her pleadingly. “Sing… fer me?”

And how could she say no to a face like that?

She tries the tune he was humming, the notes sounding wrong leaving her mouth, like it’s a sacred tune that she shouldn’t attempt unless she truly understood what it meant, but Legend relaxes further back into the bed, breathing a sigh like the weight of the entire world has just been lifted from his chest. Soon, just a small dozen notes into this new tune, his breathing evens out and his eyes shut, the world of the awake leaves him.

Or he leaves it.

She sings the tune for a minute longer, to make sure he’s truly asleep, before she stops. She studies his face, how the tightness in his brow and the seemingly permanent frown in his lips are now gone. He looks… content. Happy even, despite the fever working its way through his body.

She releases a breath she hasn’t realized she’d been holding and turns to the rag she’s set to the side. She swallows, picks it up, and gently lays it on the boy’s head.

-o-o-o-o-

A few days pass, a few days filled with healing and relaxing for the boys. Legend woke up awhile ago, and he hasn’t said a word about what happened between the two of them that night, so Malon just assumes he doesn’t remember.

She’s proven wrong one chilly morning, just a few hours before the boys take off to continue their quest.

He corners her in the barn as she’s in the process of milking one of the cows. She looks up when he enters the barn and slowly shuts the door behind him and she simply hums in greeting and continues her task as his shoes skuffle against the hay on the floor towards her. He lowers himself into a crouch by her side and he watches her hands work for a few moments, and then releases a sigh.

He clears his throat and she spares him a sideways glance. He looks nervous. “About… about… what happened…”

“Not a word,” Malon finishes for him and his shoulders relax. Tension leaves his entire being. She originally planned to tell her husband what had happened, but she quickly decided against it. If Legend wanted everyone to know about a girl named Marin, he would have told them. Malon found out when he was delirious from fever and injury and it would be unfair to tell secrets when they were gained without the bearers control.

“Thank you,” he whispers. He goes back to watching her work with an almost companionable silence.

“Can I… Ask who she is?” Malon asks against better judgment. She doesn’t turn to him, just continues her task, giving him the choice to say yes, no, or just remain silent.

It surprises her when he answers. “Marin… she is- was the girl of my dreams.” His voice sounds almost wistful, but it also sounds so incredibly sad.

“What happened to her?”

A beat of silence. “I woke up.”


End file.
